Paul's Promises
by Dixie Dewdrop's Graceland
Summary: FBI Agent Paul Briggs means well, especially where Charlie DeMarco is involved. However, often his roommates cause his best intentions to go awry. Please refer to my profile page for the chronology of my Graceland stories.
1. Wednesday

Wednesday

Savoring the moment, Paul Briggs leaned in for a kiss, taking the opportunity to run his hand through Charlie DeMarco's hair as he did so. He loved her hair- thick, chestnut brown, and incredibly wavy when humidity laced the atmosphere.

Charlie responded to the taste of his lips by sliding her hands to his shirt front. She unbuttoned two buttons before he drew back and lifted himself a bit so that he sat caddy corner on the sofa cushion.

Paul regarded her with brown eyes so compelling that she always described them by saying his eyes embraced dreaminess and soulful longing, and then combined that with straight out sexy.

"What? Do you want to protect your modesty? You don't want me to see you naked?" She spoke teasingly, her lips tilted at the corner. Charlie shifted her own position to straighten against the sofa's back.

Tilting his head towards the front door he dramatically brought a finger to his lips and promised, "So, so wrong. Actually, I want to see you naked. Then I want you to see me naked, but right now my instinct tells me that…"

The front door flung open and Mike Warren, the newest member of the household and the probie amongst the group entered halfway, hurriedly dropping his open umbrella to the side of the exterior doorway and then fiercely shaking his blond hair. Water splattered the walls of the foyer with the deluge.

Finally he closed the door and saw them watching him.

"Oh, wow, the rain hit me by surprise. I got super soaked before I even managed to get my umbrella open."

His wide blue eyes radiated sincerity and he smiled shyly, such a Mikey expression that both Charlie and Paul grinned as a response.

Charlie evidently thought he looked a bit like a drowned rat. She slid off the sofa and ordered over her shoulder to Paul, "Put something hot on for him," before disappearing up the stairs.

Mike regarded her empty seat with confusion and asked worriedly, "Did I make her leave just now?"

Paul unfolded his body and stood, arranged the cushions, stretched deliberately, and motioned towards the kitchen in response. "No, Mike, but do quit shaking over there and make your way to the kitchen."

Charlie joined them there, and discovering Mike shivering by the refrigerator, pushed him down onto a stool. She had fetched a thick towel and used it to roughly dry Mike's hair.

Not sure if he should protest and not wanting to protest anyway, Mike stayed quiet as Briggs heated water in the kettle, located cups and sugar, and brewed three cups of fragrant hot tea for them.

Charlie finally deemed him dry enough and stepped back with the towel to survey her work.

Mike rubbed his dry scalp and smiled gratefully at her. "Thank you. I was really soaked."

"You're welcome." She placed the towel on the back of his chair before wrapping her hands around the cup Briggs extended. "Smells good, Paulie, and you made it all by yourself without whining or claiming to be kitchen illiterate," she teased.

Paul winked at her, the gesture acknowledging her words but also offering a promise of a later interaction. His relationship with Charlie strengthened him, strengthened both of them actually. Still, in the presence of their roommates they acted as though they were anything but a couple, reluctant to admit or acknowledge that a relationship had developed weeks before during an undercover assignment. They had adopted the personas of a fictitious couple, Eric and Katie, to hide their identities as FBI agents. As the assignment progressed it got harder to pretend and given free rein to act upon their undeniable attraction to each other, they did just that.

In the backs of their minds Paul and Charlie surmised their roommates suspected their liaison, but privately agreed that they needed to keep their love life low key as a means to avoid professional and personal complications.

Paul tilted his head towards the doorway. "Where are the others? I recall that Chuck and I sent four of you to the arcade." Paul risked a sip then quickly pulled the cup away to blow cooling breaths into it.

Charlie smirked at his greed.

Mike looked uncomfortable and began to fidget, causing Charlie and Paul to exchange knowing glances.

Charlie sighed reassuringly. "Listen, Mikey- I can already guess that Dale and Johnny and Paige ordered you not to tell us where they really are because they want to stay out late tonight. But you need to remember that tomorrow we've all got a joint ops between the FBI, the DEA, and ICE. We cannot give less than a hundred percent tomorrow while we're all in the spotlight."

"They have to be on point, Man," Briggs explained, drumming his fingers on the counter. "To do that, to make good impressions in front of company they can't stay out all night partying."

Mike turned a miserable expression their way, clearly torn in his loyalties.

Charlie leaned across the counter and frowned. "I know you want to avoid tattling, Mikey, but if you recall, we emphasized the importance of making it an early night before you four left. Every single one of you assured us that you would be in shape for tomorrow's job."

Either Charlie's rationalizing worked or Mike still hadn't shaken his insecurity around her, but Mike needed no further prodding. "Jakes took off on his own before we ever got to the arcade and I honestly didn't see him again the rest of the night. Paige and Johnny and I stayed together until we ran into this group of tourists from Australia who were hanging out by the Ferris wheel. We all ordered some beers and played a couple of games of darts and horseshoes but then Johnny took off with this girl. Right after that Paige hooked up with a guy and we were all supposed to meet together back at the Ferris wheel at ten. But at the meet Paige and Johnny insisted they were going to stay a couple of more hours and enjoy the arcade rides." Mike's voice faltered to a stop.

"And?" Paul coaxed.

Mike licked his lips, "and they said for me to come back to Graceland since I didn't want to stay longer but when you asked to tell you they were right behind me."

Charlie closed her eyes and sighed dramatically at the reveal. Her plans evaporated with the conclusion of Mike's explanation and she accepted his words had sabotaged the last vestige of her romantic evening with Paul.

Briggs patted Mike's shoulder and assured him that the others wouldn't be angry with him. He motioned Charlie to follow him out of Mike's sight.

They stopped by the door and he gently kissed her goodbye. "Babe, you know I have to get down there and play the Grinch, but I promise tomorrow night it's just for us. I'll be all yours, at your beck and call and you can do with me what your heart desires." He licked his lips and grinned suggestively. "You can pretend I'm one of those dolls you can manipulate."

Charlie giggled and closed the door softly behind him.

Paul set out on his rescue mission focused upon regret at his leadership role in the Graceland household. Once he learned of the arcade plans he had shamelessly looked forward to a relaxing, mutually enjoyable evening alone with Charlie. It was a rare day indeed when he and Charlie would have the delicious luxury of the house to themselves.

Reality sabotaged his romantic intentions, however.

As the de facto leader both from a professional perspective as well as a private one, he often ended up modifying or rebutting his own promises because of his Graceland obligations.

Jakes, it appeared, had changed his mind and decided to enjoy the arcade after all. At the pinball area he ran into a fellow ICE agent and from there they made the rounds of the carnival activities.

The arcade catered as much to adults as it did to children.

Dale's colleague finally excused himself and headed home.

Jakes located Johnny some time after Mike left and both of them decided to search for Paige and head home.

They did. In fact, they found Paige already making her departure.

Unfortunately, Dale managed to anger one of the tourists from the Australian group by inserting himself into the goodbye process. Hotheaded and feeling dissed, Jakes followed that by throwing a punch which the tourist immediately reciprocated. Refusing to leave their roommate to fight alone Paige and Johnny jumped into the fracas and an out and out brawl ensued before other bystanders finally forced a cease fire.

Once calm the combatants shared their communal shame. They admitted that they had jumped to conclusions and excused themselves with embarrassed apologies and pleas for forgiveness. They had gotten along so beautifully at the beginning of the evening but then sabotaged the alliance by the end.

Jakes shook hands self consciously with his opponent before the groups dispersed.

The bad luck continued. The Graceland trio ran into Briggs before they could clean themselves up or concoct a good story to cover their dishevelment.

Spotting his tall frame they exchanged resigned, nervous glances.

No one bothered to offer a defense as Paul tore into them for their irresponsible arcade behavior, recognizing that he was right and that they had to start thinking before reacting. Besides that, the three had insisted before they set out for the evening that they would honor Paul's request for an early evening, and thus, had compounded their transgressions.

Once home it took nearly a half hour to assess damage, apply compresses and bandages, and get the household to sleep, even with the trio guiltily cooperative.

Finally sliding under crisp cotton sheets beside a dreaming Charlie Paul groaned at the unwelcome change to their evening plans. Too tired to get back up and check to see if Charlie had set the alarm he fell asleep reminding himself how dangerous an arcade could be for the inhabitants of Graceland.


	2. Thursday

Thursday

Briggs slipped from Charlie's room and into his own. He and she really tried hard to keep their relationship on the down low, but occasionally slipped up. Today, for example, he had to hunt down his wallet before he could leave the house. Luckily, he located it behind a book of devotions on Charlie's nightstand and hurried to retrace his steps to his own room.

"Got it?" demanded Johnny, who framed Paul's doorway. "I told you time is of the essence here."

"Yeah, stay calm John Boy. It slid down between my bed and nightstand but it's in my pocket now." Paul patted the back of his jeans to double check. "I'm good."

Johnny's face lit with excitement.

It had taken all of Johnny's persuasive tactics to convince Briggs to join him in a morning of motorcycle riding in the desert and he had no intention of wasting a minute of time when they could already be participating.

Johnny planned they would join a group of agents from different government agencies who rode regularly together.

Thursdays were simply one of those sacred times for the motorcycle enthusiasts.

Paul and Johnny decided to rent two motorcycles though the group had offered them ones to borrow. The Graceland agents were reluctant to take that responsibility and refused with thanks. It was hard enough adopting the mentality to share their home as one in six, but having to share again during a day of recreation seemed intolerable.

"Let's go then!"

With the glee so typically Johnny, he started running for the stairs.

Anticipating the upcoming stunt, Paul ground out "Don't!" which stopped Johnny before his feet left the landing.

Johnny scowled, "Why do you have to just assume everything?"

Briggs clapped a hand on his shoulder then started down the stairs. "Because I know you John Boy, and I remember last week when you tried that trick and ended up tumbling down several stairs and landing on your butt by the potted ficus."

"You spoil my fun."

"That's my goal," Paul agreed. Spotting Charlie in the kitchen he yanked Johnny to the side. "Now remember that if you want to reach a plane of unbridled freedom and a commune with nature watch what you say with Chuck. If she suspects something you'll blow the plans."

Paul kept to himself his underlying motive, that he and Charlie had discussed motorcycles before, and she considered them suicidal. Should she discover he planned to court danger she would go ballistic.

Johnny turned serious. "Leave it to me to throw everyone off the scent. I'm that sneaky and much more analytical than Charlie."

Paul grinned and reached over to muss Johnny's hair. No one would ever rival the cocky self assurance inherent in Johnny Turturro!

Paige and Mike leaned over a detailed map spread out across the counter, blond heads almost touching. Paul grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and carved a huge bite but Johnny pushed himself bodily between Mike and Paige and demanded, "Yo, what's in the map?"

"Mikey and Paige think they found a short route to the mountains that could turn into a winter day trip." Charlie explained as she rearranged items on one of the refrigerator's door shelves.

"Not winter," Paul observed, blowing her a kiss while the others were occupied and focused on the map.

"They know that," she smiled. "They're just thinking ahead for some future fun. Jakes just left and said to tell you his assignment might finish earlier than he first thought. He could be back as early as tonight or as late as tomorrow."

Paul rubbed his chin. "Ok."

Johnny backed away from the table. "Time to go," he directed.

"Where are you two headed?" Paige inquired, not bothering to hide her curiosity. "You look like the Fonz character from that tv show _Happy Days_ with those jackets."

Mike craned his neck to gain a better look. "Good call, Paige," he assured her.

"Well thank you, Agent Warren," she smiled.

Charlie's gaze narrowed as she focused upon Paul.

As the recipient of that specific look Paul froze. She suspected something, and the repercussions could ruin his plans. He turned his head to avoid her gaze. "Chop chop, Johnny," he called, pointing towards the door. "Time's a ticking."

"Wait just a second," Charlie directed. "Paul, where are you two headed?"

On cue, Johnny stepped up to deflect the questioning. "Our fearless leader agreed to help me worm my way into a biker gang's territory by hanging out at a bar with me. Don't wait lunch or supper on us. We're taking this opportunity as far as we can today."

Paige ventured, "Want some company? Mike and I could help you."

"No," Paul contradicted, realizing too late that he had snapped the reply.

"Why can't Mikey and Paige go too?" Charlie asked suspiciously, studying Paul's face for clues.

"Because," Johnny held out his hands. "Because I don't need a poker group today, just another set of eyes from my boss Briggs. Now, bye bye to all of you and see you later."

Not missing a beat of Johnny's exit, Briggs followed Johnny out the door, impressed with the way the younger man had slipped through the inquisition unscathed. Personally he felt more than a twinge of guilt at lying to Charlie, or rather at omitting the truth to her, but Charlie would go on the warpath if she discovered their real mission.

Briggs shook his head. He couldn't handle a whirling dervish Charlie today. Besides, he had promised her a movie night at home if the rest of the team had evening plans, or at the mall if the team stayed home that evening.

Either way the point was for them to share romantic alone time.

No matter how much fun the day held, he wanted Johnny to get them home in time to clean up and keep his promise to Charlie.

Outside in the sunshine Johnny could not contain his delight. "Wild Hog Heaven, here we come!"

Boys will be boys, and Paul and Johnny took advantage of the sheer fun of their day. The agents raced, practiced stunts, created obstacle courses, and reveled in the camaraderie of fellow agents. Because of the very nature of their intelligence and investigative work agents stayed immersed in the worst elements of society the majority of their work days. Carving out times to relax and momentarily forget the reality of their jobs presented rare opportunities to renew and revive.

As it turned out, Paul and Johnny enjoyed themselves so much that they nixed leaving early and stayed until the rest of the group departed.

Consequently, when they did venture home they arrived tired, dirty, and more than a little bruised and banged up from the physical menu of activities they had savored.

More telling of their time, however, was the fact that Briggs had to support a limping Johnny, who had turned his ankle trying to master the stunt of leaning almost parallel to the ground on the motorcycle. Paul sported an angry burn mark on the calf of his left leg, seared there from not paying attention to the hot motor as he swung his leg over to disembark and return the motorcycle to the rental store.

Paul's promise to spend a romantic movie evening with Charlie dissolved the second the wounded warriors crossed the threshold at Graceland. Mike and Paige had decided to spend the evening at a public park a couple of miles from the house, but Charlie and Dale opted to curl up and read until they laid eyes on Paul and Johnny. They joined forces and examined, iced, and bandaged their roommates before ordering them to rest, nestled with soft blankets on the couch.

Despite the activity and ensuing interrogation, the two bikers managed to keep from divulging the true events of their day.

Charlie located a leftover prescription of painkillers prescribed her months before and emptied the bottle of the remaining three pills. She split them between her patients, handing them glasses of water to wash down the medicine.

Johnny's eyes closed so quickly that she and Dale missed the chance of helping him to his room, but Paul managed to get upstairs and under the covers before the drowsiness overwhelmed him. He kept his eyes open long enough to reassure her that the next day would be their day.

He promised.

Charlie rubbed his hair and kissed him lightly on the lips. "All right, Pauly, I'll hold you to it."


	3. Friday

Friday

By the time Paul awoke, showered, dressed, and ate breakfast Friday morning, Charlie, Johnny, and Mike had all left and reported to the FBI agency for a scheduled refresher class.

Paul's duties lay elsewhere.

A check fraud scam had begun the year before in a couple of locations in the valley. At first blush it appeared that incidents initially reported from three separate banks were unrelated, but then the occurrences began to rapidly increase and spread to four other banks.

Though a task force created to examine the crimes did uncover enough clues to suggest that the statistics could predict the next targeted banks, determining the individual or group responsible still eluded authorities.

Paul planned to masquerade as a teller so that he could observe all customers enter Georgian Savings and Loan. According to the analysis of the intelligence they had gathered and studied, the Georgian would be either the very next, or the second next bank targeted.

Basically the scam involved some complex planning. Through the scheme a customer cashed a check of five to nine thousand dollars at each bank on perfectly legitimate out of state accounts. However, once the money departed the premises and the physical check travelled back to its home bank, it would be discovered that the check had been fraudulently counterfeited and issued.

According to witnesses, females always cashed those checks. Though the task force batted around several ideas to explain the female front, no definitive answer emerged.

Other than those facts pertaining to the scam, there were actually very few tangible clues or leads.

Paul smiled to himself. Charlie had left him a note suggesting they meet for supper around seven at a small restaurant they both loved. Tiny and unimposing, locals knew that it hid a menu of excellent seafood and vegetarian dishes, and spectacular views of the ocean from a floor to ceiling wall of windows. Charlie and Paul considered it an oasis for their relationship. The sound of the waves soothed them, while the anonymity of the restaurant lent it an air of mystery. Any time they slipped away and reveled in their isolation at a restaurant their roommates had yet to find, they felt invigorated, recharged, and undeniably connected to each other.

Meeting Charlie for a future tryst would give Paul something to anticipate all day.

The Georgian's stucco exterior had been painted a soft yellow, strangely impressive because the décor really lacked any Southern California characteristics.

Sliding his jeep into a vacant employee slot in the parking area, Paul debated whether to characterize the bank as stately or as regal. Before he actually entered he indulged himself in a quick tour of the exterior, examining anything bank related from the landscaping to the ATM machine and night deposit slots. Paul filed mental notes, not certain which observations could provide usable clues.

With the exception of the bank's president, no one knew Paul's true identity. Until it could be established that the scam did not include inside employees, it made sense to just act as an employee in training.

The interior of the bank boasted a beautiful chandelier which hung from a ten foot ceiling. The counters, desks, and tables reflected the light's prisms on their polished pine surfaces. Paul counted three tellers who appeared to share responsibility for the walk in customers and the drive in customers. In addition the plaques beside two open offices with glass interior walls indicated they housed the loan officer and the bank manager. The safe deposit boxes were visible and accommodated within one side of the building.

A chorus of voices greeted him as he entered, and slipping off his sunglasses he headed to the bank manager's doorway and introduced himself. The manager personally escorted him to the tellers and assigned him to shadow and train under the one with the most seniority, Stella. In her thirties, Stella possessed a professional and businesslike demeanor, an employee Paul surmised took her job seriously.

He judged her colleagues Cody and Ariel as both in their twenties and interested in progressing up the ranks. Cody spoke to him in greeting, then pretty much ignored him. Ariel, however, regarded him with open appreciation and Paul felt uncomfortable with her delight. Though the fact that she considered him attractive gave him a flash of pride, he had no intention of encouraging her attention. Not only did he view it as detrimental to his current undercover position, but most importantly, his heart belonged to Charlie DeMarco.

Paul had trained the week before at the FBI home office, tutored by a former bank manager who immersed him in the basics of banking. Paul's sharp mind and genuine interest in new learning opportunities pleased his teacher, who went further to spell out some current banking laws for him. He and Paul ended their sessions debating the euro, the global economy, and the fate of the penny.

Under Stella's mentorship Paul realized how fortuitous it had been to know his way around a banking job before he got there.

By the time his lunch hour arrived Paul had first hand observable exposure to several deposits, issuance of travelers checks, the cashing of checks nowhere in the range of the scam checks, and even working with a customer to set up online bill pay.

Stella kept her thoughts to herself, but Paul told himself he had done well. Cody did reward him with a "good catch" when Paul pointed out that a drive through customer had requested change rollers with his cash back so that Cody was able to add them to the contents of the pneumatic tube.

Ariel, on the other hand, did nothing to hide her fascination with him. She seized every opportunity she could to come in contact with him and managed to flirt any time that Stella left the teller area.

For Paul Briggs, female attention had never eluded him. Not only did he fit the tall, dark, and handsome stereotype, but his physical prowess and beautiful smile never went unnoticed.

He stood out from the crowd.

Evidently Ariel planned to use whatever personal weapons she carried in her arsenal to sway Paul to her side.

Luck smiled upon him though, because the bank's tellers followed staggered arrivals, staggered lunches and staggered departures.

In a nutshell, that translated to negating any chance that the tellers would eat lunch together. Thus Paul could escape Ariel's siren clutch.

When his turn came he opted to leave to eat which gave him a chance to muse over his impressions of the bank's personnel and system in privacy.

Outside in the sunshine Paul leaned against the frame of the jeep and phoned Charlie, suddenly lonely for her voice and hoping to reassure himself that an extraordinary bond really did exist between them. She didn't answer, but he left a voicemail that he looked forward to being alone with her at dinner.

He chose a restaurant directly across from the bank and ate lunch there, allowing his mind to rehash the current case while surveilling the traffic in and out of the bank.

Filtering through the known facts, Paul discounted any males he saw who entered; ditto for females with children in tow. No one stood out for most of his lunch break until a beige Lexus backed into a spot at the corner of the lot.

Paul wrinkled his nose at the choice of automobile color. If a person invested a huge chunk of a salary into transportation, why go for something bland when red or orange or even gold existed?

A woman stepped from the passenger side and skirted the car to the driver's door. A hand extended and she grabbed the offering and slid it into her purse before following the sidewalk to the bank's entrance.

Paul's cell buzzed and startled him. He hastily gathered his lunch remains, dropped them into the trash and jumped in his jeep. Without the phone's alarm he would certainly have lost all track of time and gotten back from lunch late.

He and the woman crossed the lot walking in opposite directions, and Paul noted that she nodded almost imperceptibly to the car's other occupant.

Paul turned to look. The male driver cranked the car and left the lot as soon as the woman reclaimed the passenger seat and slammed the door.

Pausing with the door handle at the bank's entrance in his hand he tried to pinpoint what exactly he found out of sorts with the couple. Nothing really seemed terribly out of place.

The rest of the day passed fairly routinely. The bank tended to fill around opening, lunch, and closing but otherwise kept up with fewer customers in the off hours.

Six o'clock signaled the locking of the doors behind the last employee, and Paul followed the manager into the deserted lot. The manager had an assigned space sheltered by a palm tree and Paul waved good night before rounding the corner to his own vehicle.

Not entirely surprising, Paul found Ariel waiting for him.

He sighed

"My Superman has arrived," she gushed, batting her lashes and smiling as he neared.

Paul cringed inwardly but smiled politely. "You left before I did. Why are you still here?"

"I'm waiting on a good Samaritan," she explained. "My battery's dead."

"Uh oh," Paul eyed her car, genuinely concerned. "How do you know it's the battery?"

She crossed the remaining distance between them and grabbed his hand, dropping her keys into his palm. "You try to crank it and see if I'm right."

Paul slid his phone out of his pocket and consulted the screen. It was already ten after and he and Charlie were to meet at seven. The restaurant would take him half an hour without traffic so he would be pushing it if he dealt with Ariel's car problem.

Still, he possessed a moral compass and deep spiritual beliefs. She had come to him for help, and he knew how to render it.

To refuse to do so would backfire on him.

Despite his agreement to help Paul needed to tread carefully and not encourage her advances.

It wasn't a ploy though, and she was right. The battery wouldn't even turn over a tiny bit.

Paul pulled jumper cables from the jeep before moving the jeep to right in front of her car. Automatically he matched the cables and hooked up the two cars to each other, marveling at how one manmade object could transfer its energy to another.

Ariel took turns complimenting his mechanical skills and sharing personal details about herself during the process.

Paul waited patiently until he could remove the cables- it felt like hours passed before he directed her to test the car and it finally worked. He grabbed the jumper cables and waved off her thanks while he searched his backseat for a cloth or paper with which to wipe off the grease from his hands.

Ariel appeared with a packet of baby wipes. She extended them coyly. "Help yourself," she smiled.

He did, cleaning himself as thoroughly as he could. "Thanks. You are going to have to purchase a battery pretty soon Ariel, but for now you are good to go. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow."

"Can I at least thank you with dinner?"

"Actually I'm on my way to a dinner date right now," he replied firmly, sliding into the jeep's driver's seat.

"Oh," she frowned. "That's disappointing. Maybe next time." Catching him a little off guard she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for your talent and work my Superman!"

It wasn't until he pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant twenty minutes late that he glanced in the rearview mirror.

He groaned loudly. Lipstick covered an entire section of his collar.


	4. Saturday

Saturday

When the clock's alarm sounded Paul buried his head into the pillow in an attempt to block its insistent shrill and ward off reality.

To guarantee he responded and to circumvent his plan Charlie kneed him in the back as she crawled over him to silence the summons.

She eyed his still body as she stood and stretched.

"Paul," she ordered, "get up and get dressed. You have to get to the bank by eight and you know the drive will take up some time itself on a weekend."

"No," he mumbled in response. "Give me another hour, Chuck. I need rest." He waited for her understanding and her insistence that he sleep a bit longer. Nothing happened.

When she failed to agree and compounded it by ignoring him he resigned himself to opening his eyes a couple of minutes later. Paul maneuvered himself to his side with a long groan. "Where did you go?"

Leaning down to make eye contact with him Charlie tousled his hair and pointed towards the bathroom. "Get dressed, Paul, and I just switched that shirt you wanted to wear to work. That one you picked out had a stain on the front."

"What?" Paul moaned in alarm and threw an arm over his eyes. "That's my lucky shirt! I counted on wearing that to the bank."

Already an ill omen had inserted itself into Paul's brand new day. He muttered with more than a touch of sadness, "I love that shirt, that specific shirt, that one and only shirt! When I pulled it from the closet last night nothing looked wrong with it that I could see. Come to think of it, I look great in it even if Charlie hates it. She claims the sleeves remind her of Gandalf and I know she just doesn't appreciate British fashion."

By the time he concluded his monologue and untangled himself from the bed linens he could hear her brushing her teeth in the bathroom. Paul sat up straight and took stock, mentally running through his upcoming responsibilities that day. He would finish his supervised training at the Georgian and if all went well he would walk away with some substantial leads to the fraud suspects.

He crawled out of bed.

Before accepting Charlie's word for it Paul snatched his first choice shirt and examined it, turning the hanger from one side to the other for a comprehensive exploration. Suspicion flooded his thoughts when he discovered a brownish stain across the left pocket. Hadn't he picked that shirt up from the cleaners in pristine condition just a couple of days ago and hung it straight in the closet? How could he have stained it so badly?

A shortage of time derailed him from further investigation. Checking the clock he gave up any idea of pursuing the matter and began to hurriedly dress.

Mike knocked loudly on the doorframe while he knotted his tie. Paul grinned at his protégé in greeting, genuinely pleased to see him. "Morning, Levi!"

"Am I bothering you? I could come back," Mike suggested.

Before Paul could respond or invite him to enter, Mike crossed to the bed and sat down on its edge anyway.

"No, I don't mind the interruption but I do need to get to the bank today for my undercover work." Paul tilted his head and checked Mike's expression before sitting down beside him and snatching his shoes. "Go for it."

Mike frowned. "Ok, here's the deal. Dale hates me. No, Dale Jakes detests me."

Paul regarded him with some bewilderment. "That's a bit harsh, Mikey Mike."

"But true," Mike assured him. "Somehow I always set him off, from the first time he ever met me. But yesterday evening I bumped into him- and I mean literally bumped into him- while he had a bowl of ice cream in his hands and it flew all over him." Mike wrinkled his nose. "I mean what managed to miss the floor splattered him."

"What flavor?" Paul quizzed.

"What?"

Briggs rose to his feet to tuck in his Charlie-chosen shirt. "What flavor was the ice cream?"

"Pistachio," Mike decided.

"Damn!"

Mike looked stricken. "Tell me what you mean! Why is that so horrible? What's the significance of the pistachio?"

Paul raised his eyebrows and answered in a confidential tone of voice. "Pistachio happens to be my favorite flavor, and last time I checked that particular ice cream carton had about two servings left. If Dale lost one I know he replaced it, so that means no pistachio ice cream will be left in that carton for me." Paul regarded Mike with sorrow. "That hurts me."

Mike's mouth flew open.

Paul laughed at Mike's expression and slid his wallet into his pocket.

Mike shook his head back and forth. "Paul Briggs, I thought you would help me, not make fun of me."

"Absolutely," Briggs grinned. "I'm good now and I did pay attention. So other than the ice cream why would you decide that Dale hates you? Did you do something else to him?"

"One more thing," Mike admitted, steepling his fingers and narrowing his eyes in concentration. "I accidentally knocked a lamp over in his room and broke it about an hour later."

"How?"

Mike looked uncomfortable and paused a moment to form his answer. "Something stupid again. I guess I'm just a klutz." He added, "I offered to pay for it or even to replace it but he refused and told me to just get out."

"Hmmm…" Paul decided, "Tell you what, I have to take off now but I promise I will give this my undivided attention after work today."

Mike still looked worried.

Paul leaned down and patted Mike on the back. "I promise."

"Ok," Mike nodded.

"Out the door, Charlie-" Paul yelled in the direction of the closed bathroom door before bidding Mike good bye.

When Paul pulled up to the Georgian thirty five minutes later a sixth sense warned him that something had changed with the bank's exterior environment. As he slipped the jeep into a parking slot he studied the rest of the lot. Considering the number of employees and their transportation, it appeared that two additional automobiles had arrived before opening hours.

Since he lacked a key someone inside had to disengage the lock to let him enter. Paul took advantage of the wait to scour the vicinity for anything hinky, but the rest of the area appeared relatively normal.

Stella stood by the bank manager's desk and they whispered confidentially, though both nodded in greeting when they saw him arrive.

Paul glanced at the empty teller cage and reminded himself that Cody, Ariel, and Stella arrived and departed on a staggered schedule.

Evidently Stella came to the bank first each morning.

Paul saw that Stella had begun readying the bank for the first customers before she occupied herself with the manager. He shot her a charming smile and pantomimed that he would finish it. He deftly inventoried the worktables, adding deposit slips and withdrawal forms where appropriate, locating pens and then straightening chairs and magazines in the waiting areas.

A chiming bell startled him and he paused to watch as the manager ushered Cody inside, then released the door locks so that customers could enter. Stella opened the heavy shade covering the outside windows to the drive-through and Paul saw two cars already waiting in the queue.

The manager tapped him on the shoulder and relayed a message that the bank's president wanted to see him privately.

Once the manager pointed out where to go he watched until Paul actually entered the office.

Paul didn't look back to see if the manager or even Cody or Stella showed curiosity in his whereabouts. The summons didn't surprise him, nor the company. Once he entered the president introduced him to two fraud investigators who confided a six thousand dollar check had been fraudulently cashed the previous day.

As soon as he heard the news Paul added his impressions from the day before. He dictated everything he could remember about the couple he had watched during lunch, from their beige Lexus to the description of the couple riding in it.

The group bounced ideas and strategies for several minutes. All of them agreed Paul should continue with his cover, because at that juncture they had no proof that one or more of the tellers were not part of the scam. Briggs genuinely doubted their collusion, but had learned long ago that exemplary investigative work meant keeping yourself open to even the impossible and implausible.

Paul studied them one by one when he finally rejoined the other employees. He had to employ all of his covert skills to examine Ariel, who flirted outrageously anytime she made eye contact and who posed an imminent risk to his own personal happiness.

Charlie had not appreciated the lipstick stained shirt last night, and though she understood perfectly from an intellectual and agent perspective that Paul's undercover work held the blame, he felt it best to steer clear of Ariel. Thanks to his fellow teller the romantic dinner had turned into a sit rep instead, and the mood certainly failed to materialize as the one he had promised Charlie they would enjoy.

Cody remained aloof as he normally did, not appearing interested in the extra people in the building or even in the underlying unease pervading the bank.

The bank closed at noon on Saturdays, and he left as soon as he finished his job requirements. Paul looked forward to a couple of hours of serenity through a surfing jaunt, then maybe a nap once he logged his notes for the day.

Charlie wouldn't be home until late, and Paige had called and reported she would be home mid afternoon.

Paul helped himself to a bottle of water from the refrigerator and marveled at the solitude of the house. He moved his head side to side to unkink tight neck muscles and practiced some deep breathing to unwind from the bank and the commute.

The front door opened to admit Dale Jakes. He warned he was on the run and had returned for a late lunch because he had to hurry back to his current case.

Paul watched with interest as Dale slapped cheese, deli meat, bread, and condiments onto the counter before searching for a plate and building his sandwich.

Jakes regarded him as he bit into the bread. "Want one?"

"Sure," Briggs nodded, and sat down on a stool to watch Dale work. He felt lazy, and must have looked lazy as well, because Dale glanced at him and chuckled.

"What's up with Mikey?" Briggs ventured.

Dale slid a plate in front of him and Paul grabbed the sandwich and took a huge bite, nodding his thanks.

"Your hotshot FBI protégé is lucky I haven't beaten him to a pulp."

Briggs uncapped the water and drank deeply before commiserating. "He can annoy the best of us."

"Right," Dale agreed, leaning over the counter as he ate his own sandwich. "Yesterday he managed to body slam me by hurtling himself down the stairs."

"Ouch," Briggs grimaced. "Seems like a genuine accident, though."

"Sure it was, but it happened because he tripped over the next to the last stair, tripped because he fell over his own pair of shoes which he'd left in the middle of the step!" Dale's voice rose for emphasis as he relayed the circumstances.

Paul imagined the scene and had to agree with Jakes. It really was Mike's fault. "I'll remind him of the keep the stairs clear rule we have."

"Do that," Dale prodded, "and add the part about running and playing ball in the house."

Paul leaned back in surprise. "Mike?"

"Yes Mike," Dale confirmed, "along with Johnny."

Dale took a bite and tilted his head towards the steps.

"Are you planning to share details, DJ?"

"Sure. The teens…"

Briggs hid a smile. Johnny and Mike had certainly personally reminded him of adolescents more than once.

Jakes narrowed his eyes. "Do you want the story or not?"

"I want the story."

"So the kids decided to play basketball upstairs and used the hall as the basketball court, all this while I attempted in frustration to write a report in my room. When I heard them I got up to shut the door but made it too late. Apparently Levi threw wildly and the ball arced into my room and crashed into my lamp."

"Oh wow," Paul winced. "Man, that's unjust."

"Unjust doesn't come to mind, but hey, you think as you like. You're the house leader."

Briggs rubbed his chin and sifted his thoughts. "You're in the right here, and Man, I can handle this two ways. I can come down really hard on both of them, Johnny as well as Mike, or I can snatch them up then let that be the end of it."

Dale rinsed his plate.

Paul regarded the set of Dale's shoulders and added, "Whichever way I go, though, that has to be the end of it. It's now in my hands and they won't need more repercussions from you. I don't want you to fawn all over them but I expect you to accept an olive branch."

Jakes nodded and motioned for Paul's empty plate. Briggs slid off the stool and returned the meat and cheese to the refrigerator.

"What's on your mind?"

Jakes laughed sarcastically. "I'm a rat. I just tattled and I could have kept this to myself. Stupid as it sounds, I actually feel guilty for reporting on the house toddlers."

Briggs transitioned into his leader mode and answered seriously. "No, I asked and had you lied then that would have made trouble between you and me."

"Johnny usually responds to you," Dale affirmed.

"True, I can rein him in and the same can be said for Mike. Right now I'm not too happy with either of them. Just thinking about one of them crashing over the banister freaks me, but I am incredibly upset about the whole basketball incident. Both of them know better."

Dale turned to leave. "Gotta go."

"Stay safe man. I'll take care of the other two," Paul promised.


	5. Sunday

Sunday

Yawning widely, Briggs rubbed his eyes one last time as he stepped down into Graceland's kitchen, joining Paige, Mike and Johnny who stared vacantly at each other. Obviously they had come to life just slightly earlier than he had.

"Morning, team," he mumbled.

A chorus of sleepy replies answered.

Paul pulled a clean glass from the cabinet and then grabbed the juice from the refrigerator.

His action evidently galvanized Johnny.

"Grab the eggs," Johnny ordered before he could shut the door, "it's Sunday and pancake day."

Mike blinked and sat straighter. "Choo choo train."

"Plane," Paige scowled.

Slamming a mixing bowl on the counter Johnny informed them smugly, "Since you two acted ugly earlier, I think I can answer both of you with a resounding no."

Immediately two whining voices assailed Paul, minding his own business as he filled the coffee pot with a carafe of water.

"Johnny's being mean, Paul!"

"Johnny's supposed to make breakfast and he won't!"

Without turning Paul quashed the rest of the argument. "Johnny, make them breakfast. Paige and Mike, it's Johnny's prerogative what shape he makes the pancakes."

That settled that.

Paige slid from her stool and began to set the table, while Mike turned his energy to unloading the dishwasher.

Paul consulted the chore wheel and noted with relief that his duties lay elsewhere, in an area far, far away from the kitchen. He cautioned, "Mike, don't slam the bowls on top of each other like that or you'll break them. We're getting short on dishes."

Paul pulled a file off of the side table that he had saved to review and began to read, sipping coffee as the energy in the kitchen intensified. Something about the bank fraud case disturbed him, and he had the niggling feeling that he had missed something important.

Dale entered and growled a good morning in response to salutations from the others.

A plate slammed onto the counter in front of Paul, who glanced down and whistled. "JT, my man, that pancake looks more like my jeep than my jeep does! You're a true artist."

Johnny beamed. "Those rims I modeled after the way they looked before that guy you busted up in Compton went after them with the rebar."

"Pretty good," Dale admitted, leaning over to gain a better perspective.

"Sorry about earlier, Johnny. I don't mind helping you out tomorrow. Will you make me a ballerina instead of the plane?" Paige cooed sweetly.

"Ok, now that you realize your error, I believe I will," Johnny responded with delight.

Paul hid a grin. Johnny ruled their Sunday breakfasts, and rightfully so.

Mike sidled beside Johnny and pointed at the batter Johnny had sculpted into frying pan art, "Is that a ribbon or a mistake?"

"Briggs!" Johnny hissed. "Save this boy's life!"

"Mikey Mike," Paul ordered. "Get away from Johnny at once. He works alone for a reason and you have no business questioning him."

"I just wanted…" Mike defended his actions.

"No one cares," Dale summarized. "Leave Johnny alone. Hey, after the ballerina, will you make me a caterpillar?"

"Will do," Johnny confirmed, content once more. He slid Paige's plate in front of her and she squealed at his masterpiece.

Paul popped the last bite of jeep pancake into his mouth and hurriedly cleaned up his area. "This culinary experience truly sets our own JT apart from other wannabe breakfast chefs, but I can't stay to enjoy more. Remind Chuck when she comes down that I will work at the Veterans Administration until after lunch." He grabbed his keys.

Swallowing a mouthful of juice Paige reminded him, "What about the lessons?"

Paul stopped to regard her and pursed his lips. "Let me see, ok? I promise if I get home in time the two of us will get together and practice."

Paige had begged him for months to teach her to drive a stick shift, something she had failed to master with other instructors. She accepted the promise and he smiled, then waved good bye to all of them.

Paul glanced at his tire rims before he climbed into the jeep and smirked at the memory of Johnny's pancake reproduction.

The day smelled lazy and he drove thoughtfully, his speed moderate, focused upon a spiritual acceptance and renewal. Paul treated Sundays with a sacred respect and routinely expressed gratitude for his blessings. In addition, he habitually practiced giving to others. Today, for example, he would devote himself to the local Veterans Administration, which he considered an opportunity to make a positive difference in his own life. This particular venue was familiar to him, since he had logged numerous hours over the years helping injured veterans gain physical strength through rehabilitation and exercise.

Well aware of the blessings in his own life Paul also dedicated hours each month as a volunteer drug counselor at a halfway house.

Paul tapped a beat against the edge of the steering wheel. With the radio uncooperative he made do with his own thoughts.

He often second guessed himself as the house leader at Graceland, not certain that he adequately filled the position. Routinely he weighed his own competence. Nevertheless, the one proudest accomplishment he could claim as leader led directly to the participation of every Graceland agent in some type of volunteer service. His influence had steered them all into routinely implementing humanitarian work into their weeks.

Mike, the newest member of the household, had approached Briggs a month after he joined Graceland to confide that he wanted to follow him into volunteer work but had no idea what he could offer. Briggs advised him to shadow his roommates as they worked and promised Mike he would find his own path and calling.

Mike did.

Warren worked one day a week as a literacy coach for a middle school after school program, and joined Johnny several times a month at Meals on Wheels, delivering hot lunches to elderly shut ins.

Paul grinned. He had dropped in on his protégé one afternoon at the middle school and marveled at the sight of Mike side by side with a sixth grader as they read a story together. Mike often came across as standoffish or slightly haughty with adults, but with children he presented an inviting, approachable demeanor.

Dale Jakes volunteered at a homeless shelter ten or so miles from Graceland, and once in a while would ask his roommates to join him. The change of seasons always brought an influx into the population, and Dale would have them help out in the soup kitchen or the nursery, though sometimes he requested they just offer moral support to the shelter's occupants. Dale often managed areas of the shelter, filling in to give the agency's leaders breaks and providing clear headed, practical planning and direction.

Paul really felt that Dale's work kept Jakes from stewing too readily in his own loss and misfortune.

Dale and Paige also helped out at a nearby animal shelter.

Paige had also gravitated to a shelter for battered women, and there she spent hours teaching basic finance and working as a credit counselor to victims of domestic abuse. Paul had escorted her to the shelter a handful of times and always left astonished at her obvious skill. It turned out that their Paige, the same Paige he and Charlie privately worried would flood the house by accident one day by failing to cut off a faucet and who had no concept of time management, possessed a sharp analytical talent.

Chuck directed her expertise to the developmentally disabled, and spent whole days each year working with young adults with mental challenges and then yearly with the Special Olympics. Her patience and compassion endeared her to her charges, and Paul's love for her deepened every time he came upon her with a hand clasped with someone who faced a mental challenge.

Besides delivering meals for seniors through Meals on Wheels, Johnny dedicated himself to steering kids away from gang involvement by teaching surfing as an after school activity. Of the six of them, Johnny possessed the most ingrained history of volunteer work, having joined his mother at service work from his own infancy. JT passionately fought to offer young people another avenue of success through the physical and mental demands of surfing, having witnessed too many children lose themselves before they even made it to high school.

Briggs had subbed as an instructor for Johnny twice in the past three years and the students made it clear both times that they preferred Johnny. Though Paul teased Turturro about casting a spell on the kids he couldn't disguise the pride he felt in Johnny's compassion and the undeniable positive influence he wielded.

With a start Paul realized that he had reached the Veterans Administration. His musing had shifted his focus from the road to his blessings.

Sliding the jeep into a vacant spot he switched off the ignition and smiled.

Yes, of all that lay within him and which helped comprise Paul Briggs, this teaching by example through his own humanitarian work filled him with his strongest sense of accomplishment.


	6. Monday

Monday

Somehow the yellow bricked Georgian Bank appeared more somber on Monday than it had Friday or Saturday. Switching off the jeep's ignition Paul actually second guessed his own reasoning over spending another workday there. By all rights, the fraud artists should certainly have moved on to a different location.

Something kept him rooted there, however. The section of the file he managed to study at home combined with the impression he gained of the female involved with the bank created a definite sixth sense.

Paul's inner rationale had convinced him that this specific branch would suffer another assault.

He studied the parking lot and bank's exterior as he strode to the entrance.

Nothing appeared out of place or of particular interest.

Ariel most certainly had missed him Sunday while they were off of work. To leave no doubt of her appreciation of him, she openly seized every opportunity to consult him with one excuse or another, making sure that she touched him and concluded by batting her eyelashes and seductively licking her lips. Even the unflappable Cody rolled his eyes when she took Paul's right hand in her own to point out where the rubber stamp should be used on a transfer deposit.

Stella redirected Ariel to her own teller area but Ariel outwitted her and managed to communicate her interest in Paul from two stools away.

Then it happened.

A nondescript woman entered the bank an hour after opening and something about the way she deliberately tried to appear nonchalant activated Paul's sixth sense. He sat up straighter. Paul took notice while the woman migrated towards the supply counter and appeared to search for a pen. It effectively wasted some time before she pretended to discover them in a holder. Evidently she welcomed the short interlude to gather her thoughts before conducting her business.

Briggs scrutinized her body language as she joined the short queue and fiddled a bit with her pocketbook, then stared at the pictures or into space as she advanced in line.

Paul timed her approach and deliberately confused a customer by maneuvering the clueless man into Ariel's line to make sure the woman landed in his. He casually slipped away from his seat and crossed to the drive through window.

The brief change gave him a view of the back and side of the bank, where he confirmed the beige Lexus waited.

Paul glanced at the woman again, focusing on secondary features. She was not the same one who had entered the bank Friday.

Nevertheless, he felt confident that he should expect that her transaction would be fraudulent.

Adopting his most gracious expression he greeted his suspect as she approached his window, grinning widely and wishing her a wonderful day.

He saw her waver, probably because she needed to complete the transaction as quickly and efficiently as possible but thought she would stand out if she didn't respond to Paul in kind. She returned the greeting and handed him a check to cash.

Briggs took his time covering each detail of the transaction, making sure that the second the check cashed he grabbed the phone. As he accessed the cash drawer to gather her bills he spoke into the receiver, providing the prearranged signal. He waited for confirmation before slowly counting the cash out loud to her, confidently enunciating the ongoing tally.

The check amount was for seven thousand dollars.

Paul tallied to three hundred while taking advantage of his view of the side window to observe the first FBI backup car enter the lot. The bank's president emerged at one thousand and stood just inside the entrance, facing towards the trio of tellers.

At four thousand the president nodded at him, signaling that the parking lot lay surrounded.

With a cheerful, "and that makes seven thousand," Paul finally handed the last bill to the woman and watched as she slid the money into her pocketbook. She turned quickly and moved away from the counter and towards the exit.

Briggs moved in tandem with her, and before she could retrace her steps to the door he grasped her arm and steered her towards the president's office.

Within a couple of hours after Paul began work the woman, along with her companion, had been booked, jailed and questioned. Further, the newly imprisoned woman and male driver rolled over on the woman who had first caught Paul's attention on Friday.

Paul had spearheaded a slam-dunk.

Cody and Stella absorbed the takedown and Paul's reveal as an agent with some adulation, expressing how impressed they were with the whole covert operation. Ariel, however, took the transformation as a personal slap in the face and announced to no one in particular that she would not waste a single additional second of time upon a man so devoted to deception.

The bank's president and manager repeatedly expressed their gratitude and shared that undercover or not, Paul actually had done a proficient job as a teller.

Should he ever quit enforcement, they promised, they would happily hire him.

Once Paul physically left the bank he reported to Headquarters and watched some of the interrogation, interested in how loyal the three would stay to each other. He was so intent on the proceedings that when Johnny slipped up behind him and clapped a hand on his shoulder Paul whirled in surprise. Recognizing Johnny's delighted smirk Briggs grabbed him in a mock headlock and scrubbed his knuckles across Johnny's closely cropped scalp. "What's up, Punk?"

Johnny extricated himself by adroitly slipping through the hold.

Briggs growled with mock ferocity, "That's right, the only way your skinny butt can get loose is by slipping out of my hold!"

Johnny pointed towards the window and spoke sincerely. "Kudos for your takedown today."

"Thanks, Man."

A companionable pause blanketed them as both agents watched the interrogation another couple of minutes. Johnny shuffled a bit. "Hey, do you need to run out of here?"

Briggs studied his face for a clue to the motive. "What's up John Boy?"

Johnny kicked his tennis shoe against the floor, using the leather toe to pull up a ragged edge of carpet.

"Are you in trouble?"

Johnny murmured a denial. "No, no- not that. I just need some guidance, I guess."

Briggs clarified, "Guidance?"

"Yeah," Johnny confirmed. "Like guidance from a big brother guidance."

"Ok, hit me." Paul narrowed his eyes, trying to discern the seriousness of the problem.

Johnny shook his head. "Not here. Can we go someplace private?"

"Later, we can later. You know I volunteer at the halfway house on Mondays, that I help out as a counselor. I can't cancel on them this close to time, but how about you ride with me? We can talk on the way and then talk again coming back. Or if you don't want the Vet scene, when I finish there this afternoon we can hook up for supper. Sound good?"

The latter appealed to Johnny. "Ok, let's do supper. I have some more work I can finish here at headquarters anyway."

"Good then." Paul smiled and reached for the door but turned back suddenly. "JT, you can wait until then, right?"

Johnny smiled and replied with a playful sarcasm, "Yes, Dad, I believe I can hang tight a while until you pay attention at dinner."

"Keep that smug attitude and see how far you get," Paul threatened teasingly, shutting the door quietly behind him as he left.

Climbing back into the jeep he practiced some deep breathing before he cranked, ushering in the relaxing, more serene demeanor he deliberately cultivated before each visit to the Veterans. He always felt he owed the vets the best of himself, a positive, receptive attitude combined with honesty and experience.

Still, his mind drifted back to the conversation with Johnny. Truthfully, he wanted to backtrack into Headquarters to tell Johnny he had cleared his schedule for him.

Common sense intruded, though, no matter if he agreed with it or not. His first priority lay in fulfilling his longstanding alliance with the Veterans, he reminded himself, and that relegated Johnny to second place.

Briggs rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He had to forgive himself for not being able to deal with Johnny right away, and to focus on the fact that he had not shirked the get together but would simply honor his promise later than he wanted.


	7. Tuesday

Tuesday

"Hurry," urged Paul in a strangled hiss. "They're like jackals. If we don't get out now, we're doomed!" He dug his car keys from his pocket and pointed the fob towards the door.

He referred, of course, to the other members of their house- Dale, Johnny, Paige and Mike. At some point in their tenure together, or more specifically through a series of daily experiences, the others had elevated Charlie and Paul to the distinction of pseudo parents/ oldest siblings- in- charge.

Charlie snatched her purse and shawl and rushed to the front door of Graceland, glancing over her shoulder for a reassurance that Paul followed her steps.

Indeed he followed, and as the front door slammed behind them he grabbed her hand in his, kissing her fingers as they rushed to his jeep. Charlie slid across the seat until she leaned against him.

Once he cranked and pulled the car onto the road he laid his arm across her shoulders and caressed the part of her upper arm not covered with her gauzy shawl.

She looked beautiful and he told her so, glancing over to watch as a smile touched her lips. Charlie responded huskily, "Well Paul Briggs, you look like a new level of hot tonight, yourself."

That he did, and no one would contradict that no matter what he wore, Paul Briggs simply smoldered with his good looks and undeniable sex appeal. Tall and muscular, his dark hair and dark eyes provided him with a mysterious, almost gypsy look. Tonight he wore pleated khaki dress pants with a blue buttoned down shirt.

Catherine Demarco sizzled with appeal as well. Petite and toned, her dark hair and eyes nearly matched Paul's. Charlie did not often slip into dresses and heels, but for this night she wore both, a flowing scarlet sundress with graceful sling backed sandals combined with a soft, daintyshawl.

In public people always turned to take a second look at the incredibly attractive couple.

The couple shared undeniable chemistry.

"Give me a hint now Pauly, and put me out of my misery," Charlie entreated. "I want to know if we'll end up at Hector's for dinner."

Paul laughed. "Not Hector's, though the food there certainly rivals some five star restaurants. We'll save Hector's for another stolen evening."

She pursed her lips. "I know you didn't make us a reservation because we didn't have enough prep time for you to make one."

"True."

Charlie watched the scenery pass for several moments. "Give me your phone," she finally directed.

Paul reached into his pocket and fumbled for the cell. "Why?"

"I'm a federal agent, that's why."

"Well, what kind of date would refuse to obey such an order?" Paul handed her the phone with a wink.

Charlie quickly scrolled through the phone's apps and recent calls. "Ok," she announced, "we're not booked anywhere."

"Told you so," Paul responded smugly. "I believe I pointed out earlier that once I finagled us a responsibility free evening I worked fast to make it a reality. Just lean back and relax, Sweet Thing, and let me handle the romance."

She smiled softly and decided to do as he suggested. The air smelled especially good as the sun began to sink, and Charlie waited as each section of the horizon colored and faded. How many weeks had slipped by lately with her too preoccupied to witness a sunset?

Paul kept tabs on her out of the corner of his eye. He loved that girl, and today had seized the chance to finally celebrate the long promised date night.

He rested his hand on her thigh and she picked it up and kissed the palm, then pretended to read as a fortune teller would. "Oooh, I will read your palm for you, Agent Briggs." She held his hand in her own left one and then traced along the palm. "Madame Catherine identifies some subterfuge in which you have taken part very recently. Stay still and let me consult another line on your hand to clarify some of your sneakiness."

Paul chuckled at the pronouncement.

Charlie playfully nipped his index finger. "I see it clearly now. You chose…."

Paul's ringtone exploded with an interruption and Charlie dug his phone out of the seat where it had slipped and glanced at the caller identification. "Jakes," she reported.

"Don't answer," Paul ordered. "If we acknowledge Jakes or any of them they will force themselves upon us."

"Agreed." Charlie hit the ignore feature. "Where was I?" She licked her lips and yanked Paul's hand into hers again.

The cell erupted with more sound. Charlie glanced warily at the screen. "Mikey."

"Nope, leave it and we'll stay strong," Briggs stressed.

The voicemail lit, and Charlie held the phone up for Paul to observe. "Be tough, Chuck. We have to stay strong. Otherwise they'll suck all of the energy and peace right out of us."

"Let Madame Charlie continue…."

This time Paige made the contact, and the couple stayed silent as they watched the voicemail app activate.

Briggs began to look worried then.

"Paul, no! We have tried to have an evening all to ourselves forever, and tonight we are not going to babysit any of them. We deserve this date night."

He laughed self consciously. "Too true, Babe, but why don't we just run through the voicemails in case something catastrophic has occurred in the past half hour?"

Charlie scowled.

"Otherwise we'll not be able to completely relax, worried about what's going down at home."

Paul shifted his hand to cradle the back of her head. "Come on, Baby," he whispered.

"All right," she sighed. "Let's listen, but where is Johnny with all of this? Why didn't he call us?"

Paul punched in the voicemail code and both of them listened intently as Dale reported Customs had called him in to join a task force travelling overnight to the border. He expected to return later in the week, and parted with a warning that their kids were at home alone with no adult supervision.

Charlie and Briggs regarded each other wide eyed.

Paul muttered, "Our kids."

"Not good, Paul, not good."

"I agree. Anytime those three are together two of them always gang up on the other one."

"Turn around. If we ignore this they'll maim each other," Charlie worried. "I don't like blood on the floors."

"Wait- we don't need to jump to conclusions, Charlie. Let me play the other voicemails."

Mike's voice informed them that Johnny and Paige had slinked out of their living room/ dining room duties by grabbing everything and dumping it in the kitchen (Mike's duty). Then he claimed to have called to ask Paul where Paul had left the rough draft timetable of an upcoming drug bust.

Paige wanted to ascertain if Paul would accompany her on a visit to a oxycodone dealer, then tattled that Johnny had coached Mike at skateboarding right in the living room, despite her repeated warnings of imminent danger.

"Is that all?" Charlie asked, "Not that what we have already heard is not enough."

Briggs rubbed his chin. "Where is John Boy?"

"What do you mean? Paige and Mikey both mentioned him."

"Right, but where is his phone call?"

Charlie nodded. "Gotcha. Wait! Let me check my phone."

Sure enough, she had a missed call from Johnny.

She held the phone between the two of them to listen to Johnny ask Charlie if she remembered where he had put the Monterey mapping report, the one he had read to her that morning and which contained a breakdown of five access routes to their Monterey target. He added that speaking of maps, he thought she needed to know that Paige and Mikey had cracked the globe which perched on the bamboo stand in the hall by playing indoor hockey with it.

Charlie and Paul shared their look, the one which expressed their combined compatibility and innate understanding with an unspoken pact of loyalty and a united front.

"Maybe…" Charlie ventured.

Briggs interrupted, "No, no maybe. I refuse to go back to Graceland until after our date."

She grinned, "Madame Charlie likes that."

"Good, because this is our destination." Paul pulled off onto the shoulder of the road and turned into a rutted dirt road with fields surrounding it.

"Paul?"

"Relax, Baby. This road once led to a lumber company but that was years ago. We're all alone out here."

"Are we?"

"Uh huh." Paul jumped down and began moving items on the back floor of the jeep.

Charlie started to slide down to the ground but he held up a hand. "Not yet. I am preparing a romantic dinner for my girl."

She laughed. "Paul! Do you see a restaurant anywhere?"

"Control yourself," he winked. "Just watch me and think that all of this is for my sweetheart."

Before her eyes he assembled a collapsible bistro table, flanked it with two folding chairs, and set a huge candle in the table's center. He dug through his pockets for a lighter and Charlie caught the sheer excitement in his expression when the flame ignited.

"Paul, how did you do this?" She was genuinely touched at his effort.

"I have more," he promised, and pulled out takeout meals from their favorite restaurant. He plated the food on crockware and yanked out forks and knives. Last, Paul produced a bottle of wine and two wineglasses, then poured for both of them.

Paul advanced to her side of the car and bowed. "Would you honor me by joining me for dinner, Catherine Demarco?"

Laughing with delight, Charlie offered him her hand and allowed him to help her from the jeep. He pulled out her chair and waited for her to take a seat. "Paul, I love this! Thank you for an extraordinary evening and for not turning us around and heading back to Graceland."

"You deserve this a thousand times over, Ms. Demarco. I forgot something though," he announced, backtracking to the truck. When he returned he produced a long stemmed white rose and offered it to her.

She breathed deeply, appreciating the rich fragrance and savoring the gift before whispering, "White, Paul. White symbolizes spirituality and true love."

He leaned down and kissed her softly. "And promises- white also stands for promises already spoken and for promises yet to be made."


End file.
